


there's no place like home

by maershexe



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, But Backwards, Character Death, Five Stages of Grief, Funeral, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Introspective Bullshit, You can guess whose, tubbo goes fucking feral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29871294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maershexe/pseuds/maershexe
Summary: “He was one of my closest friends,” Ranboo retorted, any pretence of patience completely wiped. “How is that different to you?”“It’s different! It’s so completely, utterly different that it hurts!”“What was he to you, then, Tubbo?”“He was my—”Best friend. Brother. Family.Everything.“…Tommy,” Tubbo breathed. “He was my Tommy.”The silence was deafening now, and Tubbo didn’t know whether it was the impact of his words or the way he was crying openly and freely. Tears seemed to fill him everywhere, in his eyes, in his nose, in his throat, until he choked on his words and he could barely breathe.“Do not,” Tubbo continued, “think that I wouldn’t make every single one of you take his place if I could.”(or, Tubbo attends Tommy's funeral and it hits him all at once)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 11
Kudos: 219





	there's no place like home

_Tubbo lived in the midst of the great L’Manberg grasslands, with Wilbur, who was a soldier, and Tommy, who was the soldier’s brother._

* * *

They had received the news that morning.

Predictably, most of them had celebrated. Tubbo was no stranger to the politics involving his friend; he knew how badly so many of them wanted him dead. As much as Tubbo tried to protect him — _if he even did try_ — it was only inevitable that Tommy would lose his last life. The fact that it was at the hands of _Dream_ , after all this time, shouldn’t have been much of a shock.

And it wasn’t.

At least, it _wasn’t_ , until night had fallen and Tubbo was forced to watch a small coffin be dragged from the gates of Pandora’s Vault.

Puffy reacted first. A flash of wool went past Tubbo’s eyes as a choked sob filled the air. Her red coat draped against the wood, as if she was shielding him ( _even now, in death_ ) while her hooves clung to any expanse of the coffin she could reach.

She pressed her forehead against the wood, empty words spilling from her lips. If Tubbo strained his ears, he thought he could hear _I’m sorry_ and _you were so young_ murmured over and over again.

Another figure came next, a blur of blue, but Tubbo’s vision was too murky to tell who it was. Quackity, was it? He rubbed his eyes and startled when his fingers came back wet. Wiping his hands against slippery cheeks, he bitterly realised he had started crying.

He turned to his right, where Ranboo was diligently standing by his side, and he distantly wondered if he was crying too. Ranboo was Tommy’s friend. He would cry. He _should_ cry.

 _He doesn’t deserve to. He doesn’t know_ — didn’t know — _Tommy, didn’t feel Tommy’s presence as much as I did. He doesn’t, he’d never…_

“Boys!” Sam suddenly barked. “This is a funeral. Please act appropriately.”

Tubbo jumped, mind spinning. For a brief, wild moment, he thought Sam could read his mind, catching the edges of his misdirected pain and pride. However, stifled giggles stuttering behind his back seemed to prove him wrong, and he swallowed a sigh of relief that he didn’t deserve.

“Sorry, Sam!” someone exclaimed. Tubbo thought it sounded like Bad. “It’s just, Tommy’s gone! He’s _finally_ _gone_.”

Sam snapped something back in retaliation, but Tubbo’s head swam even more at the words. He was quickly losing his grip on his emotions, and a part of him knew he would regret it later, but he could barely find it in himself to care. Thoughts of his reputation and keeping his composure were drowned out, swallowed by _Tommy’s gone, Tommy’s gone, Tommy’s gone_.

He thought he felt something snap, like a thread he had been pulling and stretching since the last time he had felt true happiness ( _when he made his apiary, when L’Manberg won their independence, when he found Tommy safe in the rubble of a war he couldn't protect him from_ ) except, when it did snap, he thought he would explode in emotion and the tension that had clenched his shoulders for months would naturally, finally dissipate.

The tension _did_ leave, just barely, but it was replaced with something hollow and numbing. He was rooted to the ground, so unfeeling that he didn’t think he could curl his fingers if he wanted to. The nothingness of it all was almost overwhelming, somehow, and the only thing he could truly feel were the hot tears streaming down his face.

He was almost thankful that no one noticed him, that the only people who could see his face were too focused on their own misery, until the gates of Pandora’s Vault creaked open again and _he_ walked out of them. Whispers immediately went ablaze.

_"They were arguing over something, apparently. Being stuck together for a week didn’t make it any better. Dream was so annoyed that he just… snapped.”_

His arms were bent back, showing off metal chains wrapped tightly around his wrists. In the group of four armed men surrounding him, netherite swords and enchanted bows positioned at the ready, only one of them dared to walk near him, heads bent as they whispered.

_“What were they even fighting about?”_

A smile cracked over his face, and Tubbo’s stomach rolled. His mask was slapped haphazardly against his head, barely hiding his face at all as it is, and a hauntingly green eye seemed to glint under unwashed hair and bravado. He abruptly jerked his head, as if feeling someone’s gaze on him — _as if everyone else didn’t already have their eyes on him the moment he entered their vicinity_ — and Tubbo was sure Jack would send a flaming arrow through his skull at the movement if Eret didn’t stop him.

_“He said he had a book that could revive the dead. Tommy didn’t believe him.”_

His mouth was moving, forming words Tubbo couldn’t hear, but George suddenly snorted and he realised it was a joke that passed between them. A _joke,_ at a time like this? Tubbo heard a sharp intake of frustration beside him, realising Ranboo had seen it too. He tried to match his irritation, glancing back at the pair, but all he saw were two boys in their own world, cracking jokes where they shouldn’t, but it didn’t matter where they were, never mattered where they were, because all Tubbo could see were _eyes glinting in delight and lips squawking with mirth and a shit-eating grin that spoke of mischief and trouble and unimaginable fun._

Tubbo swallowed, even as tears threatened to spill from his eyes and sobs threatened to spill from his lips. He missed Tommy. Everyone did, but he didn’t think he’d be able to put into words how much he _missed_ Tommy; how much he ached for the scratchy voice that excitedly told him stories, ached for the rough hold of his hands that never became gentle over the years but which grew to be the most comfort Tubbo would ever feel, ached for the warm presence pressed by his side as they cycled between the same two discs and watched the sun set beyond the trees.

How much he ached for _him_.

_“And that was enough for him to murder someone?”_

George whispered something in response, before Dream leaned over to mutter something in his ear. He was immediately met with a yelp and a swat, but Tubbo was familiar enough with the matching glint in his eyes to know George didn’t take the funeral seriously either. Ranboo jerked forward, as if ready to stomp over and yell at the two, but he quickly thought better of himself.

He leaned over to Tubbo instead and whispered viciously. “They have no respect for him.”

Tubbo remained silent, even as the unspoken “ _did they ever?”_ floated between them. It was the truth, Tubbo thought tiredly, even if the connotations they held were unjust. Tubbo doubted even Ranboo had true respect for Tommy. No one could hold Tommy with the same fervour that Tubbo did when he was at his prime, when he was the Vice-President of L’Manberg.

Even afterwards, when Tommy was nothing but a broken boy with no allegiance to his name, Tubbo thought he would still follow him anywhere.

_“What did you expect? It’s Dream.”_

“Where is it, then?”

George and Dream looked up, startled out of their conversation, and Tubbo only had a moment to savour the look on their faces before he realised the question had come from _him_.

Dream seemed to regain his composure first, straightening to his full height, and Tubbo was suddenly reminded of why he and Tommy used to run away from him in the earlier days of L’Manberg. “Where is _what_ , Tubbo?”

“T-The book,” Tubbo stuttered, immediately cursing when his voice hitched in anxiety. He swallowed and tried again. “You killed Tommy because you wanted to prove him wrong, yes? So you could _prove_ that you could bring him back.”

Dream hummed. “Maybe.”

Tubbo gritted his teeth. _Bastard._

“Bring him back, then,” Tubbo said, ignoring the way his voice shook, the way his mind was still swimming while the sadness turned into something else. _Don’t get false hope_ , he thought to himself, begged to himself, even as his heart quickly latched on a concept that hadn’t fully formed yet.

Dream pretended to mull over his words. “Well, what if I don’t want to?”

A pause. “I’ll trade you for it.”

“A trade?” The only eye that Tubbo could see suddenly lit up, mischief curling around an otherwise dead pupil. Discomfort pooled in his stomach, but it was washed away by tides of hope that threatened to drown him. He nodded, careful to keep from looking too eager, too desperate.

He thought he failed, because Sam stepped forward with the same look of uncertain _hope_ in his eyes. “We could give you your freedom. Your life for Tommy’s. That’s a fair trade, isn’t it?”

“Freedom doesn’t amuse me anymore,” Dream said. “I could still do _so much_ while I’m still in prison.”

Tubbo’s heart hammered in his chest. The implications of his words threatened to sweep his legs from under him, but he refused to let that distract from the matter at hand. He was like a lion, hungrily watching his keeper swing fresh meat deliciously past his nose. “What do you want, then?”

Dream raised an eyebrow. “Depends. What would you give me?”

“Anything,” Tubbo said, too quickly, too fervently, before he could stop himself.

Dream laughed at that, but his eyes narrowed challengingly. “Don’t you _own_ a nation, Tubbo? Talk to me when you’re willing to give that up too.”

“You think I wouldn’t give _Snowchester_ to get Tommy back?”

Dream raised his eyebrows, surprised, even as Tubbo tugged on the jacket across his back. His voice was definitely shaking now, but he didn’t care anymore. He stopped caring the moment he realised what ( _who_ ) he truly lost, and Ranboo seemed to notice by the way his gaze turned soft and sympathetic.

Tubbo felt the way Ranboo gently held his shoulder, but he couldn’t concentrate on how _not-Tommy_ the touch was. His head was spinning, his heart was spinning, his mind was drowning in emotions he could barely describe. “Calm down, Tubbo. I know you must be feeling overwhelmed right now, but—”

“No!” Tubbo yelled, wrenching his arm from Ranboo’s grasp. “You don’t know anything! You have _no idea what I’m feeling_.”

Ranboo huffed, terse. “I was his friend too, Tubbo.”

“Exactly! You were just his friend! You’re _everyone’s friend_. He meant _nothing_ to you.”

Tubbo could see the way Ranboo clenched his fists, frustration radiating off him like purple particles off an Enderman. He was vaguely aware of the silence that fell around them, as if the others were watching a roadside theatre instead of two friends who were quickly losing their minds.

“He was one of my _closest friends_ ,” Ranboo retorted, any pretence of patience completely wiped. “How is that different to you?”

“It’s different! It’s so completely, utterly different that it _hurts_!”

“ _What was he to you, then, Tubbo?”_

“ _He was my—”_

Best friend. Brother. Family.

_Everything._

“…Tommy,” Tubbo breathed. “He was my _Tommy_.”

The silence was deafening now, and Tubbo didn’t know whether it was the impact of his words or the way he was crying openly and freely. Tears seemed to fill him everywhere, in his eyes, in his nose, in his throat, until he choked on his words and he could barely breathe.

“Do not,” Tubbo continued, “think that I wouldn’t make _every single one of you_ take his place if I could.”

Ranboo swallowed. “You’re being ridiculous.”

The others shifted uncomfortably around him, while some of them looked away. One piercing stare seemed to penetrate through his back, burning past his skin and into the innermost desires of his heart, and he whipped his head up to catch them dead in the eye.

Dream held his gaze, even as his lips stretched wider and wider until his grin looked painful. It was damn near psychotic. Transfixed, Tubbo forced himself to heave ragged breaths before he tried to speak again.

“Tubbo,” Puffy suddenly murmured, face so close that her wool brushed against his face. He didn’t notice she had moved to his right. “I think we should leave.”

Sam was moving to his left, and both of them quickly placed their hands on his arms. “You’re not thinking straight, Tubbo. The grief’s clouding your mind.”

“Grief,” Tubbo echoed. “Is that what this is?”

Sam glanced at Puffy, uncertain. “Yes. _Yes_ , and it’s perfectly normal—”

“Because,” Tubbo interrupted, clumsily pushing them away, “if this is _grief_ , my head has _never been clearer_.”

A final shove forced them to let go of his arms, but the momentum only made him stumble. He knew how he looked, with dried tears matting his hair against his cheeks, but he hoped he seemed as insane as he felt. From the way everyone immediately backed away when he edged closer to them, he thought he got his message across.

They weren’t who he was targeting, however.

“ _You_ ,” Tubbo sneered, pointing an unsteady finger at Dream. “You’re going to bring him back. I know you are.”

Dream scoffed. “I won’t.”

“I know you will!” Tubbo shouted, uncaring of how his lungs started to ache. “I know you will, like how I know you wanted to shove his mortality in his face. You wanted to be the one to kill him so you could drag him back again and again and again. You wanted to show him that _you_ decided when he died.”

“ _It’s not your time yet, Tommy.”_

Dream stayed silent, but there was a calculative look in his eyes that Tubbo didn’t like. It was different from the ones where he turned insane and reckless, uncaring of the damage he caused to them, to the land, to himself. _This_ look was of a man who knew he was being cornered, who was analysing the situation he was given for a clear out, and Dream was nothing if not an intelligent man.

After what felt like years of pondering over his words, Dream finally asked, “Do you really think he’s dead?”

“No,” Tubbo replied, adamant, his voice strong and his confidence unwavering. Some people would mistake that confidence for misguided hope; Tubbo thought that was better than them realising the sheer desperation and denial that floated under his facade.

Dream shook his head, and Tubbo thought he was going to deny him again before Dream locked eyes with him and said, _“You’re crazy.”_

A bark of laughter exploded from his chest before he could stop it, wet and broken and downright _miserable_. _Oh, he was crazy, wasn't he? How cruel, how positively ironic. What would Tommy think of him then?_ He hiccupped through his laughs before they dissolved into sobs, so strong that they shook him to his core and forced him to his knees. No one made a move to comfort him.

He didn’t think anyone would. Not anymore.

* * *

_“From Dream Nation,” said Tubbo, gravely. “And here is Henry, too. And oh, Tommy! I'm so glad to be at home again!”_

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a year since i was in the mcyt fandom. i would be lying if i said my time there was a happy one, and i would be lying if i said i wanted to go back. that being said, however, i would go through it all again if it meant that i got to keep the friends i made along the way.
> 
> this fic, as tragic as it sounds, is supposed to be a gift to one of them, and i hope you treasure this as much as i treasured writing it.
> 
> to dorothy, i'm sorry i will not be there when you join this fandom, and i'm sorry i will not be there when you want someone to bounce mcyt-related ideas off of since the mere mention of them only brings back terrible memories. however, that doesn't mean i'm not always watching over you, and i await the day your account comes and i can read your stories once again.
> 
> i cannot protect you anymore, but you don't need my protection. i just hope you will take care of your work and take care of yourself. i know you will make me proud either way. 
> 
> p.s. i hope you liked the references i made in the first and last lines. almost symbolic, don't you think?


End file.
